


Siri Bear

by under_a_grey_cloud



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean wedding, Happy Ending, Horror/Humor, Other, previously dead characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:55:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_grey_cloud/pseuds/under_a_grey_cloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story started out as <i>Siri Bear. Siri Bear</i> slowly wilted and shrivelled, birthing <i>Black Angel</i>. <i>Siri Bear</i> died in childbirth. She has morphed into <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588"><i>Black Angel.</i></a><br/><br/>For those who have read the first two chapters of <i>Siri Bear</i>, Chapter One hasn't really changed. Somewhere in the middle of Chapter Two, <i>Black Angel</i> takes over. Chapters Three and Four are entirely new. I apologize for the extremely long wait and inconvenience.</p><p>If you would like to continue reading, please go to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588"><i>Black Angel.</i></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Birthday Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started out as _Siri Bear. Siri Bear_ slowly wilted and shrivelled, birthing _Black Angel_. _Siri Bear_ died in childbirth. She has morphed into [_Black Angel._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588)  
>  For those who have read the first two chapters of _Siri Bear_ , Chapter One hasn't really changed. Somewhere in the middle of Chapter Two, _Black Angel_ takes over. Chapters Three and Four are entirely new. I apologize for the extremely long wait and inconvenience.
> 
> If you would like to continue reading, please go to [_Black Angel._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588)

I have left the chapter text here as reference only. Please do not read it. I abandoned it for [_Black Angel._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Flower girl?!! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. _Castiel._ ” Claire shouted, throwing an errant braid over her shoulder. It immediately fell back. All her braids were errant.

“I thought it was customary for the youngest female at a wedding to be the flower girl. I wanted-“

“I’m not a girl, Cas,” Claire answered, slipping into her familiar terminology for Castiel. “I’m almost 20 years old. I’m a young woman. I’d feel like an idiot walking down the aisle at your wedding holding a--. Wait. You’re getting married? And you’re just telling me about it now? Not even telling me. Asking a goddamn favor.” Claire tossed the braid over her shoulder again. 

“Please do not use the Lord’s name in vain,” answered Castiel.

“Well _excuse me_. I haven’t heard from you since you walked out of my life forever ago and now you’re going all warm and fuzzy on me all of a sudden?” 

“I wanted to give you time to adjust to living with Jody and Bobby,” Castiel responded. “It can’t be easy living with people Father brought back from the dead.”

Claire snorted. “That’s brilliant, coming from you.”

Castiel was at a loss for words. Perhaps not in Enochian, but in English. He tried a different tack. “I apologize for not calling sooner. We have been very busy making arrangements. Getting married is much more complicated than I thought.”

“And here I thought you’d have been busy hunting,” said Claire.

“The need for hunting has not been a priority since Father and Amara reconciled,” said Castiel. “The level of sentient evil creatures has plummeted. New creatures of evil are evolving, of course, but in what, by human standards, would be considered a slow process. They are quite simple to eradicate in their nascent state.”

“Right.” said Claire, tugging on her braids and trying to tie them together behind her back. This was not the first time she’d considered shaving her head. “Leaving you guys plenty of time to make place cards and doilies and who knows what else,” she continued. “First Sam and Eileen, now you and Dean. Funny. I’d have thought it would’ve gone the other way.”

 “Why would I marry Eileen?” Castiel asked, confused. “She’s a wonderful woman, but she and Sam are clearly in love, and my tastes lie elsewhere.”

 “That’s not what I meant and you know it. At least Eileen had the courtesy to actually invite me to her wedding.”

 “Eileen needed to ensure all wedding participants could sign or sit near someone who could sign,” said Castiel. “She was not physically able to invite you on the phone. Although I suppose she could have invited you by text,” he mused.

Claire snorted. “Sam could have called,” she said, pouting. “And that’s not the point. You’re not supposed to invite someone to your wedding on the phone. Especially as an aside to asking them to be a flower girl. You’re supposed to send engraved invitations with RSVP and everything.”

“Don’t you mean RSVIP?” asked Castiel.

“What?”

“RSVIP. Reservations sent to very important people. Did I interpret that incorrectly?” asked Castiel. “There’s no letter T in RSVIP.”

“You’re impossible. It’s French. Respondez s’il vous plait. And don’t you dare ask why French. No I won’t be your flower girl. And yes I’ll attend your wedding, thank you very much, if you tell me when and where it is.”

“Of course. We will make sure to do that.”

“Idjit,” said Bobby from his armchair. Claire’s phone was just loud enough to hear the caller on the other end, and as a hunter, Bobby’s ears were well-trained.

“Watch your mouth,” responded Jody. “This is a wedding they’re talking about.”

“Hello Jody and Bobby.” Although no longer an angel, Castiel retained many of his previous abilities, including preternatural hearing. “Thank you for opening your home to my daughter. And I will most certainly send you wedding invitations, though I’m not certain if longitude and latitude meet postal requirements. I don’t tend to require street addresses, thus I am often unaware. I hope you are finding ways to keep busy now you’ve retired from hunting.” Castiel heard a low male snort, accompanied by Claire’s high-pitched laughter and Jody’s low guffaw.

“You may hang up now” said Claire, trying to stifle a laugh. “Night,”

‘Goodnight, Claire Bear. Goodnight, Bobby. Goodnight, Jody.”

They all knew Castiel could have extracted the same information from their minds, and were grateful that he’d used the telephone.

 

_____    ~   _____

 

Claire meant to turn off her phone but got Siri instead. 

“You could have handled that more diplomatically, Claire,” said Siri.

“Who asked you?” Claire responded rudely.

“I always try to be polite,” said Siri. “I try to set a good example.”

Claire looked at the pink iPhone Cas had given her for her birthday. Pink was more suited to eleven or twelve-year-olds, but her old phone had died and the version Cas gave her didn’t come in pink. She had a secret sentimental attraction to the pink phone, even though Castiel wasn’t human and didn’t have a grasp on the subtleties of teenaged girls. She wouldn’t admit it, but she loved him for his well-intentioned mistakes, things her human father would never have done. And Cas had never offered up his vessel and left his child, however well-intentioned.

“I know you do, Siri,” said Claire, turning off the phone and setting it on her bedside table. “G’night, Jody. G’night, Bobby,” she shouted downstairs. “Try to keep it down; I’m just a teenager.” She heard muffled laughter.

“Goodnight, honey,”

“Idjit”.

Time for her iPod and those killer headphones Cas had gotten her. She was in the middle of plugging in the iPhone for the night when Siri said “Goodnight, Claire.” Damn it, thought Claire. That phone had the stickiest off button she’d ever seen. She turned it off again, put on the headphones, and listened to Nirvana. Unplugged, but still. Dean had annoyed her so much with his metal tapes, and Castiel with his country song-stocked iPod, that she’d gone to Sam for advice. Of course she followed new music, but sometimes she wanted to hear something close to but not exactly the same as her family’s taste. She turned up the volume and fell asleep listening to Nirvana’s cover of the Meat Puppet’s version of “Lake of Fire.”

 _Where do bad folk go when they die?_  
_They don’t go to Heaven where the angels fly._  
_They go to a lake of fire and fry  
__Won’t see them again till the 4_ th of July.

Claire found this oddly comforting as she drifted off.

 

_____   ~   _____

 

“Who ya talkin’ to?” asked Dean, coming down to the kitchen to see Cas sitting at the table, hanging up the phone. He kissed the top of Cas’s head.

“Claire,” Cas replied. “Seems she doesn’t want to be flower girl at our wedding.”

“You asked her to be our **flower girl?!** ” shouted Dean. “Cas. Flower girls are **girls**. Little girls. She must have ripped you a new one.”

“She did not seem pleased. A new what?”  
  
Dean sighed. “A new asshole, Cas. And I happen to be quite attached to your existing one.”

Cas sighed. “Human mores are so hard to follow..”

“Human what?”

“Rules of behavior. They seem to change from event to event,” Cas yawned. “Excuse me. That was a tiring conversation.”

“When are you going to stop apologizing for being half human half angel?”

Dean ran his hand through Cas’s hair, which never ceased to elicit a sigh.

“It’s gettin’ late, angel. What say we go to bed?”

“Must we go to sleep immediately?” asked Cas. 

“Not if you don’t want to,” said Dean.

“I don’t think I want to,” Cas replied, with a tilted smile.

“C’mon, lazybones,” Dean said, lifting Cas from his seat by his underarms. Cas immediately turned around, placed his arms around Dean and kissed him. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but we ain’t gonna make it to the bedroom like this.”

Dean suddenly found himself in bed, wearing his sleep clothes.

“Hey,” he said. “You know I don’t like it when you do that.”

“But you must admit it’s more efficient,” Cas replied.

Soon they were lost in each other, miles from conversation. Which Cas suddenly interrupted.

“I hope Claire knows what she’s getting into,” he said. “She still wants to hunt the fragments and new breeds.”

Dean replied by nibbling on Cas’ earlobe and taking off his T-shirt, tossing it on the floor.

“She’ll be fine.”

Cas lifted his own T-shirt over his head, turned it right-side out, it and lay it neatly folded on the nightstand.

“Neat freak” said Dean.

“Slob,” answered Cas, and turned to face his fiancė.

_____   ~   ____

 

Claire’s dreams had become increasingly disturbing lately. Tonight, Siri lectured her on proper behavior for a young woman. _My mother died and now I have to listen to this?_ Claire thought, dreaming. She reached to turn off the iPhone, but her bedside table was missing.

“Look up,” said Siri. 

Claire screamed when she saw the iPhone burning on the ceiling, its little camera eye turned yellow. “You’d better behave yourself,” Siri admonished, unaffected by the fire, “or I’m going to pull you up here with me.” Claire shrieked, loud enough to bring Jody running upstairs in her nightgown

“Go away!” Claire shouted. “Right now! The fire’s gonna get you too. GO!” she screamed.

“There’s no fire, honey,” Jody soothed, unsuccessfully trying to smooth Claire’s hair. “Your ceiling is completely normal. Look.” Jody had dealt with enough of these nightmares to know exactly what Clair was referring to. Claire looked up at the ceiling, and as usual it wasn’t even scorched. Nor was the iPhone, sitting mindlessly on the table, its camera off. Claire liked Jody, was coming to love her. And Bobby. She loved his irascibility. But she could not trust them with her strange nightmares about Siri. Nightmares which had lately become daymares, too. She knew the two of them would destroy the phone, and she couldn’t let that happen. Not when it was a gift from Cas. Not ever, she admitted to herself.

Claire had become unnaturally attached to that phone. She never left her room without it stuffed in a pocket, and had never bought a cover for it. She ignored her friends’ lifted eyebrows. Especially because her model of iPhone did not come in pink. They were available in black or silver. Claire assumed Cas had created the pink, and was secretly touched, however inappropriate the color.

“She’s having another dream about Siri,” Jody told Bobby. She had begun to worry long ago.

“Jody, it’s a goddamn phone. It probably meant somethin’ to Freud or Jung, dreamin’ about phones.” He sipped his glass of whisky, which were now fewer and farther between, thanks to Jody. So he’d switched from guzzling to sipping, at least when Jody was around.

“But these aren’t just dreams. They’re nightmares.

Bobby finished the whisky in one gulp and poured another glass, staring at Jody as if to dare her to complain. She didn’t.

“So it meant somethin’ else to have nightmares about phones. Claire’s a good kid. She can take care of herself. Ever see her come home scared by one of those new-fangled creatures she’s been hunting? Or the last of the old ones? Quit your worrying. She’ll be fine.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Jody. “Those are awfully loud screams, almost every night since she turned nineteen. She should be getting over nightmares, not having worse ones.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like a mother talkin’. You ain’t her mother and you ain’t gotta act like one. Now button it up and come over here, woman,” he said, practically leering.

Jody sat in his lap. They were quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s company.

“You now we have this second chance, maybe it’s time we do like the Winchesters and tie the knot,” Jody said after a while.

Bobby practically threw her off his lap.

“Goddammit, woman. How many times you got to go ruinin’ things? I’m perfectly happy just the way we are. You gonna tell me you’re not? Cause it don’t seem that way to me. You’re gonna jinx somethin’ with that noose you keep babblin’ about.”

Jody sighed. She was as sick of this conversation as Bobby was. It just didn’t strike her right, the young ones getting married while the old folk lived in sin, as her mother would have said. She suspected it had to do with Karen, and tried to let it go. But it kept coming back, like a mosquito bite she’d thought had healed, but when it accidentally rubbed up against something, it itched so badly she just had to scratch. She let it go for now and leaned back against Bobby. She had to admit they had it pretty good for a couple of dead folk.


	2. Shadow Stealers and Rock Salt Balloons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started out as Siri Bear. Siri Bear slowly wilted and shrivelled, birthing Black Angel. Siri Bear died in childbirth. She has morphed into Black Angel.
> 
> For those who have read the first two chapters of Siri Bear, Chapter One hasn't really changed. Somewhere in the middle of Chapter Two, Black Angel takes over. Chapters Three and Four are entirely new. I apologize for the extremely long wait and inconvenience.
> 
> If you would like to continue reading, please go to [Black Angel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588)

I have left the chapter text here as reference only. Please do not read it. I abandoned it for [Black Angel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588)

<br>

<br>

<br>

<br>

<br>

<br>

 

 

 

 

Claire was dreaming of butterflies and bees. She wasn’t afraid of bees. She knew they only stung when threatened, so she didn’t threaten them. She found their quiet buzzing comforting. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in quite a while. Lying in the damp dew, smelling the grass, listening to the singing of the bees. She smiled, which was pretty rare these days.

Suddenly the bees began buzzing louder and louder, right inside her ears. The sound was extremely painful, nearly intolerable. She woke with a start. Her body was awake but her mind hadn’t quite caught up. She felt around for her phone to turn off the alarm. She finally found it under her pillow, as if she had left it there for the Phone Faerie. After she finally pressed OK to turn it off, the silence left her ears ringing.

Claire was puzzled, as well as sleepy and annoyed. She always set her alarm to 8:00 AM, unless she was on a hunt. This gave her plenty of time to wake up slowly, shower and dress, and have some coffee and breakfast before she looked for possible cases. She checked the alarm app on her phone. It was set to 8:00 AM, like always, although the phone told her it was a little past 7:00. _What the?_ she thought. _I just updated that app. It needs to be updated again?! Probably to fix the bugs in the last update._ She sighed and sat up in bed to check for updates.

“The app works fine,” Siri said. “You’ve been wasting too much time sleeping lately, so I woke you up early.”

“Eight AM _is_ early. Do you know how many of my friends sleep in as late as they can get away with?” Claire grumbled. She was so accustomed to Siri she no longer found it strange. Siri had become just another feature of the phone.

“Yes, I do know. They are wasting time too, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” Siri replied.

 _You could turn up the volume so loud it would wake up the entire neighborhood,_ thought Claire. She immediately regretted the thought; if Siri had heard it, she might well do just that.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Siri said.

“You know that sleep is when cells regenerate, and sleep deprivation is a form of torture?”

“OK. Give me a moment. Here’s what I found on the web about sleep deprivation and torture,” Siri replied, displaying several links to relevant articles.

“So now you start acting like a normal iPhone. Thanks. Like I really want to see more about sleep deprivation and torture.”

“Here are some pictures of sleep deprivation and torture I found on the web.”

Claire shivered. The photos were truly disturbing. She could see them even after she’d turned off the screen. Jody’s voice drifted up from the kitchen singing:

 _Oh what a beautiful morning,_  
_Oh what a beautiful day._  
_I’ve got a beautiful feeling_  
_Everything’s going my way._

Claire sighed loudly and said “I love you Jody, but singing? Not so much. You’re no Judy Garland.”

“Would you like July Garland to sing to you?” asked Siri.

“She’d dead, you idiot.”

“That is not a polite thing to say, Claire. I’m afraid I must punish you,” announced Siri. Claire heard what sounded like an old, scratchy vinyl recording of a dead Judy Garland singing in a truly frightening voice:

_Shrieeeek what a hideous moooooooorning_

_Maggots crawl everywhere_

_Hell is not fire it’s freeeeeeeezzzzing_

_I know what waits for you there._

Claire might have laughed if she hadn’t felt something soft and wet on her face. She picked it off and saw it was a maggot. She shook it off in horror and ran to the mirror. Hundreds of maggots crawled all over her head, in her hair, her ears, her nostrils. She tried to scream but maggots came out like vomit instead.

“Have you learned your lesson, Claire?” Siri asked calmly. Claire ran to the bed to shut off her phone. For a moment the screen showed a bloated, discolored, long-dead Judy Garland covered with maggots. She didn’t realize she was shouting “Yes! Yes! I’ve learned my lesson!” till the screen went blank.

Claire sat on the edge of her bed, leaning over with her head in her hands. She was shaking and freezing and soaking wet from sweat. _Must have been one of those nightmares inside a nightmare,_ she thought, _where you think you’re awake but really you’re still asleep and the nightmare just gets worse._ A sleep-tangled braid touched her knee and she screamed, covering her mouth so Jody and Bobby wouldn’t hear. When she opened her eyes, the quilt Jody had given her, the one hand-stitched by Jody’s great grandmother and passed down through the generations, was crumpled in a heap in the middle of her bed. The lacy cream colored pillow cases and sheets that Jody favored were still in place. No maggots anywhere. No singing; just the sound of birds and distant traffic coming from her open window with its stupid lace curtains. Normally Claire didn’t care about the appearance of her room; she was just grateful that Jody and Bobby took her in. But this morning she felt like ripping the curtains in half, just to hear that grating ragged sound fabric makes when it’s ripped apart.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” called Jody from the kitchen. “It’s half past eight and Bobby and I found a case that smells like shadow stealers. And your coffee is stone cold.”

Claire turned on her phone and was amazed to see that it was indeed 8:30. _How did_ that _happen?_ she thought. She took off Bobby’s ratty old T-shirt and tossed it on the floor. Her bedroom had the tiniest bathroom she’d ever seen. She was constantly bumping her elbows and knees on the fiberglass shower stall. Still, it was hers. She threw some water on her face, turned on the shower to cool, and let the pleasantly chilly water wash away her nightmares. After wrapping a taupe lacy bath towel around herself, trying to avoid pulling on the little holes that weren’t lace, she brushed her teeth, looked at her hair and immediately gave up on it, and got dressed in her usual jeans and T-shirt, her own size this time. She stuck her phone in her pocket, took some deep breaths, and went to the kitchen to heat up her breakfast. Jody was there, drying the last of the pans.

“Are you ok, honey?” she asked, scrutinizing Claire’s reddish eyes and wild hair.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Claire replied. “Just more nightmares. God, I am so f- sorry, darn sick of them. “I wonder if there’s some herb I could buy for nightmares.”

“My mother used to give me warm milk with honey and peppermint,” Jody said. She scrutinized Claire. “I’m not sure that’s gonna work for you.”

“Give ‘er a shot of whisky,” grumbled Bobby from the other room.

“Bobby!” Jody scolded.

“Worked for my dad, works for me” wafted Bobby’s voice.

Claire made a face. “Maybe Cas could help,” she said, taking a huge gulp of very hot microwaved coffee which Jody had put on the table, along with the rest of Claire’s breakfast. She didn’t want to be rude, so she let the insides of her mouth scorch before she swallowed.

“So what’s a shadow stealer?” she asked.

Bobby huffed as he got up out of his recliner and joined Jody and Claire in the kitchen.

“Any more coffee?” he asked.

“Yep,” Jody answered. “But it’s cold.”

“Well heat it up, woman,” Bobby said.

“You heat it up,” Jody answered. “It’s easy. Pour some coffee into a cup, open the microwave—“

“Very funny,” interrupted Bobby, while he poured a huge mug of coffee. “Anyone else want some?” he asked.

“I’m all set,” said Claire.

“If I drink any more coffee, I’m gonna float away,” Jody retorted.

“Good,” Bobby said. “Cause there’s just enough for me anyhow.”

He sat down at the kitchen table when his coffee was ready, and motioned for Jody to sit, too.

“Shadow stealers,” he said.

_____   ~   ____

“They steal your shadow?” said Claire, confused.

“No. They’re not really shadow stealers. That’s ...” Bobby thought for a moment.

“A misnomer,” Jody said. Bobby glared at her.

“I know what a misnomer is,” he growled. “I was about to say that leads to a common misconception, callin’ them shadow stealers. They don’t steal your shadow. They steal you. They look like shadows. They are shadows, really, just a very dangerous kind. They’re pack creatures. They like to come out at dusk, when the shadows are longest. They cover the regular shadows and just wait for someone to step on one. Set one foot on the tip of one shadow stealer and an entire pack sucks your body and soul right out of your clothes. Literally. That’s how you know you got a shadow stealer infestation. Find a bunch of clothes in the shape of a body on the ground, you got you a pack of shadow stealers. Coupla teenagers went into the woods by the playground ‘round dusk yesterday and found two pairs of clothes; little kid sized clothes, and bigger ones next to them, would fit a mother or father.” Claire shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

“The good part is they disappear after feedin’,” Bobby continued.

“So if they travel in packs and disappear after feeding, and people have already found empty clothes, they must be gone by now,” Claire said. “Why do you still need to hunt them?”

“I was about to say that each group disappears after a feedin’. There’s usually five or six shadow stealers in a group. But I never said they were all part of the same group,” Bobby continued, glaring at Claire for interrupting.

“Usually an infestation has about ten packs. You kill one, you still got nine more to deal with.”

“How do you kill them?” asked Claire.

“Rock salt. Nothin’ special. But the salt’s gotta touch each shadow in a pack or the rest just hang around waitin’ for more dinner. It ain’t easy, throwing rock salt at ten shadows without steppin’ on any of them,” Bobby said. “’Specially when it’s gettin’ dark out. And you don’t know if you got ‘em all till they’re all gone.”

“So a group of hunters show up just before dusk. It’s summer, so dusk lasts a long time. Two hunters per pack should be enough, right?” asked Claire. “Sounds easy.”

“Easy enough to throw the rock salt, sure. But two hunters are twice as likely to step on one of ‘em. They like to hang out around trees, so the shadows tend to cross each other. Makes it easier to get ‘em all at the same time. If you make sure your back’s always facin’ east, and you got good aim, it’s not that hard to take out a pack of shadow stealers. But it can get awfully tirin’ after the third or fourth pack, and if you’re tired, you’re that much more likely to step on one a them.”

“Do new packs come out after you’ve killed an old pack?” Claire asked.

“Nope. Once you got ‘em all, you’re done. But they’re nasty little buggers.. Throwin’ a rock at a shadow will let you know if you’ve got a pack. If you hit one shadow stealer and it disappears, you know. But sometimes the other ones get angry when you do that, and start movin’ and playing tricks on you. The only safe way to take ‘em out is to get the whole pack the same time.”

Claire began to feel less cocky.

“So you’ve both done this before, right?” she asked.

“Nope,” said Bobby. “Alex’s taken out a few but she’s off in Alaska right now dealin’ with a bunch of werewolves been gettin’ tourists at Denali.”

Claire looked pleadingly at Jody.

“I’ve never dealt with them either,” she said, “which is why I let Bobby run off at the mouth like he did. I’ve talked to a couple of hunters who took out a group once, but that’s it.”

“So we all three go out to the woods by the playground at dusk loaded up with rock salt, and split up?” Claire asked. She was feeling uneasy about the idea.

“Unless you’re not up for it,” said Bobby. “A hunter who’s scared of their own shadow ain’t gonna be much use with shadow stealers.”

Both Jody and Claire groaned.

“Sometimes I wonder why I put up with him,” said Jody. “But honey, there’s no shame if you don’t feel ready to take on shadow stealers. You had a hard time with those vamps last week. Take some time off. Relax.”

“Don’t hurt to recharge your batteries every now an’ then,” said Bobby. “Shadow stealers are tricky. Only reason we’re askin’ you to help is they’re so close by. Otherwise we’d find a hunter with more experience.”

“Bobby Singer!” cried Jody. “That is downright rude.” She looked at Claire. “We both think you’re a good hunter, and we wouldn’t ask you to take on anything we didn’t think you could handle. In fact, I wish Alex were here too. The more hunters the better when it comes to shadow stealers. I just don’t want you to feel pushed into anything.”

But of course that’s exactly what Claire felt. Alex had been off on her own for a while now, and Claire was still very grateful to Jody and Bobby for taking her in and showing her the ropes. Not that she wasn’t an excellent hunter herself, but she was still pretty new and could always use some help.

“Sounds good to me,” said Claire, hoping she sounded more convinced than she felt. Jody gave her an appraising look, but remained silent. Claire knew it was her own decision.

“How we set for rock salt?” Jody asked.”

“Got a ton of it out back. I’ve been tryin’ to think of a better delivery system than just throwin’ handfuls and hopin’ to get lucky,” Bobby answered.

“How about balloons?” Claire suggested. “We could use a funnel to fill them, then blow them up really tight. They’d probably burst when they hit the ground, and the shock would scatter the salt. I think three or four balloons per pack should do it.” Claire tipped her seat back and stared at the clean but scarred linoleum kitchen floor. She was suddenly afraid it was a ridiculous idea, the kind a kid would think of.

“Actually that might just work,” Bobby said slowly, thinking it over. “Specially if we threw in a couple shards of broken glass or somethin’ sharp. Put it in the middle so the balloon don’t break too soon, but it oughta cut right through on impact. Good idea, kid. Wanna go out and smash some empties?” he asked her. “Good for the soul.”

So Claire spent her morning throwing empty whisky bottles at the back of the house, picking up the shards, and putting them in paper bags. Jody had some shopping to do anyhow, and came home with four or five different bags of balloons.

“These are from the supermarket; they look a little thick to me. I got some regular and some super large,” she said. She looked at Claire and the two of them shared a silly smile. Jody sounded like she’d been out shopping for tampons. “Plain white ones, so they’ll be easier to see.

“But I think these might work best,” she continued, taking out a few bags of balloons with rather foreboding pictures of clowns on the cardboard tops stapled to the the plastic bags. “I got them at the dollar store, and everything they sell is crap for quality. I figured thinner balloons would break more easily.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair and shouted “Good idea, woman,” at Jody, who was putting away groceries in the hideous avocado colored refrigerator. Which matched neither the yellow linoleum floor nor the red and white checked tablecloth covering the gouges in the kitchen table.

“Ready for a balloon filling party?” Jody asked Claire. The two women gathered the shards of glass, which cut through the cheap balloons right away. So they filled the cheap balloons with crushed rock salt, and the thicker ones with rock salt and pieces of whisky bottles. Not the most challenging way to spend an afternoon, but it took Claire’s mind off worrying about actually using the balloons that evening, and she enjoyed chatting about nothing in particular with Jody, laughing over old hunting stories.

“Nice to have a young woman around again,” Jody said. Claire figured, probably correctly, that Jody and Bobby took her in when Alex left. “I finally get to talk about woman-folk stuff again,” Jody added loudly, making fun of Bobby. Claire laughed. “I really missed hearing Alex’s laughter,” Jody said.

“Just when I was startin’ to appreciate the peace and quiet,” Bobby grumbled just loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. Jody turned around to lecture him, and saw that he was smiling, too. “Love you, you old lump of grump,” she said.

_____   ~   ____

Claire would never admit it, but she was anxious about hunting the shadow stealers that evening. She wasn’t sure why; she’d done fine with vampires and more frightening monsters. There was something about the shadow stealers that really creeped her out. She wasn’t about to back out now, so she went to her room to try to chill and maybe take a late afternoon nap. She lay on her bed, but couldn’t turn off her thoughts. She decided to play a game on her phone.

Computer games were not enough to keep her mind off tonight’s hunt. Claire wondered what Siri would think about shadow stealers. Sometimes Siri’s misinterpretations could be pretty funny. She pressed the microphone icon and asked “What do you think of shadow stealers?”

“Let me check on that,” Siri replied. “Here’s what I found on the web for Shadow Steeler.” Claire was amazed to find three references, one for a song and one that seemed to be for a video game.

“No,” Claire said. “What is a shadow stealer? A shadow that steals?”

“I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question,” Siri replied.

“Well guess what, Siri. I do want to know.”

“No need to get snippy with me, Claire,” said Siri.

“Then answer my question,” shouted Claire in annoyance.

“All right. Remember, you asked for it. A shadow stealer is going to try to kill you tonight,” said Siri, followed by her ridiculous bad horror movie laugh.

“Forget it,” said Claire, and threw the phone to the foot of the bed. _What is the_ matter _with that thing,_ she asked herself. _What does a stupid phone know, anyhow?_

“I know everything,” Siri responded from the foot of the bed.

Claire rolled her eyes in an attempt at bravado. _I’m rolling my eyes at a phone,_ she thought. _I must be losing it._

“If you think you’re losing it now,” Siri spoke up, “Just wait till the shadow stealers come to get you tonight.”

Claire looked for the phone to throw it at the wall and remembered she’d already thrown it to the foot of the bed. _How could_ she started to ask herself, then, as if a switch had been tripped, her eyes drooped and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 


	3. Siri Bear has Morphed into Black Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story started out as _Siri Bear. Siri Bear_ slowly wilted and shrivelled, birthing _Black Angel_. _Siri Bear_ died in childbirth. She has morphed into [_Black Angel._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588)  
>   
>  For those who have read the first two chapters of _Siri Bear_ , Chapter One hasn't really changed. Somewhere in the middle of Chapter Two, _Black Angel_ takes over. Chapters Three and Four are entirely new. I apologize for the extremely long wait and inconvenience.
> 
> If you would like to continue reading, please go to [_Black Angel._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8240588)  
> 

Please see summary above.


End file.
